


Who Said You Could Play in My Mountain? - Discontinued

by Aille



Series: Discontinued but not abandoned [10]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, But is at the same time, F/M, Fell Winter, Female Bilbo, It's Always Gandalf's Fault, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Nori is a Little Shit, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aille/pseuds/Aille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When given the chance to go back and repair the damage that had been done, what choice did he really have?  But at least she could have told him he'd be starting over at the very beginning.  What happens when the one that no one trusts and the one no one knows are the only ones who have any idea of what is going on.</p><p>Undergoing re-write - will be posted as a whole new story soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net. I own nothing to do with The Hobbit, or the LotR. But my cats own me.  
> I know there are a lot of Do over/Fix it type stories out there, but I'd like to think this one is a bit different. At least, I haven't read anything like it yet. Updates will be slow though, no more than 1 per week, more likely every 2. I am not a fast writer & I do work full time, however, if all goes to play, my timeline is epic, and if the muses have their way, it will be even longer.

Prologue

When the time for peace had finally come, the foggy white wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. He’d hoped for friends and family that he’d lost in the past.

‘I failed.’

‘No Master Hobbit, you did not,’ a soft voice whispered in his ear. He found he no longer truly trusted whispers.

‘There was so much more I could have done. Should have done. Instead I condemned all of them.’

‘You played your part in their story better than any expected of you.’

“Yet I lost them all!” By the Valar his voice sounded so loud in the vast silence of the mists surrounding him. Should there be more, a new adventure of sorts?

Laughter sounded quietly, “I told him you would not be pleased.”

Turning around in circles, while reaching for the elven blade that no longer rested on his hip, “who’s there?” Never noticing how smoothly his old body danced.

“Oh my child,” the voice seemed so close and yet so far away, “I cannot let myself be seen, not unless you choose to stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why dear Bilbo, child of my children, would you save them if you could?” There was a brush of air on his ear, yet he found he couldn’t turn to see who was behind him.

“I would do anything. Anything! If it meant I would remove the burden I left in my arrogance.”

A soft chuckle, “You would not be the same.”

“Is anyone after an adventure?”

“Manwë’s choice of Maia has influenced you I see. Olórin always had a bit of a flair for dramatics.” She; for the voice had definitely was a she; laughed softly again, light filling his own heart because of it. “No young one, you must change.”

“I told you, I would do anything.”

“Remember my child, not all can be fixed. Some things must happen, no matter what the reason,” why was there sadness washing over him? “If I could save you from this, I would, yet many thing things need to be changed and you have the heart for it.”

“For my Darrow and my family, I would walk into the fires of Mount Doom itself, if it meant that they would be safe!” He straightened a little, conviction like mithril in his bones, strong and un-breaking.

“Aulë and I choose well little champion. I can ask for no other, nor can I tell you where your adventure will end, however, you will not be alone. Not forever.” A soft hand brushed his cheek from behind, “If I could spare you, I would. You have more than earned your rest.”

“I do not ask it of you.”

“And that dear child, is why you are worthy to be spared.” Fingers raked through short tuffs of rapidly darkening hair, “Things will be very different this time around, you will remember in time. Don’t let that stop you.”

“Must I start without knowing?”

“All beings, whom are not returning whole from these lands, start with very little child.” Why was she picking him up? “No, you must start at the very beginning,” it was so comforting to be cradled in her arms, and yet he still couldn’t even get a glimpse of her face.

“Wait for the right time my child, for only you will know when that will be. Yet know that every choice has a repercussion and there will be those that block your way.” He was growing ever so tired, it was near impossible to keep his eyes open. “Sleep young one. Sleep and when you wake, all will be new.”

He knew no more.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

“Congratulations Belladonna, it’s a girl!”

“Bilba, her name is Bilba Baggins.”


	2. Chapter One - A Day in the life of a Fauntling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I first started with the idea for this story, I had no plans on making Bilbo female. Even in my timeline (which spreads out over at least 30 chapters, 3000+ words and 9 pages), all my notes keep Bilbo as he is in the book, which is what I am using as my main background, with little pieces of the movie because I loved the visual. However, as I started writing, every time I tried to write Him/He, it would come out as Her/She. It honestly doesn’t change anything about my timeline, nor the plot as I have planned it out. Not that the muses may run away with me and change it anyway.
> 
> The chapters do get longer after the first few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't just leave the Prologue up as it was, but my next update won't be for about a week. I still need to type it up. I have the first 7 chapters written though in a notebook.
> 
> Hobbitish is closest translated to Old Welsh according to some of the resources I used for writing this fan fiction. If I use anything, I will put the translation at the end of each chapter. Just as the Dwarrow have their own secret language, I do think the Hobbits would keep this to themselves. Certain words, like Adad (father) and Amad (mother) in Dwarven are common knowledge, once you spend enough time around people, but most of their language is hidden. For this I am using an English to Old Welsh translator. If it’s wrong, I’ll be happy to fix it, my language skills are still budding.

Belladona Baggins, nee Took, watched over her fauntling with pride. Already having wild dreams of adventures, imaginary friends and even trying to convince her to go hunting for elves in the woods. Just because the faunt wanted to see if they were really as tall as her _mamau_ said.

Which is exactly what had happened that morning over second breakfast, little Bilbo chattering on about Darrow and how they’d had a huge food fight in Rivendell (oh the memory her fauntling had, it had been over a month since she’d last talked about her own adventures to the great Elven home) and asking; well more like pleading; to go look for Elves in the woods before tea.

So here she found herself, hanging out the laundry, while Bungo prepared elevenses, watching on overly energetic faunt chase after butterflies in the garden. Tiding the _un ifanc_ over as much as they could until they were able to go to the Old Took’s birthday in a little over a week. A good time to indulge the ever growing adventuring spirit.

Something she was never going to stop doing either, much to the dismay of the Baggins of Hobbiton. Apparently a fauntling of five should be starting to learn responsibility already. Who thought teaching an _un infanc_ letters and numbers at this age was foolish. Oh yes, little bits as they read their stories in the eve between dinner and supper, but to the extent those old dotters wanted was ridiculous. She’d just smile and state to those _hynaf_ when they’d confront her was if Bungo had wanted a proper lass, he wouldn’t have married a Took. Her little Bilbo was very smart, thank you very much, she already knew her letters better than her age mates. And her numbers, well, they came easy to the faunt. Even simple maths, which most fauntlings had difficulty with until their tweens, had been like drawing on old memories. Her daughter would be a very fine master of Bag End someday, for all her lack of wanting to wear a skirt.

As for chores, well, her tomatoes had never been so good. Not that she’d tell anyone that secret.

Perhaps, if she could have truly understood the actual babbling of her faunt, she would have been more worried about the stories the _un infanc_ told each morning over breakfast for the past few months. They were much too involved for one of Bilbo’s age to make up on their own, even with the stories she’d heard of her mother’s adventures. Instead, both Bungo and Belladona just let the tiny fauntling play with her imaginary friends and half listened to the babbling with a fond smile.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

Running through the knee high grass, little Bilbo Baggins was chasing after trolls (that were disguised as butterflies today) with Sting (a small twig) in hand and her friends that no one else ever seemed to see, at her side. Bof and Bif were her companions of choice today. They were always making toys in her dreams, so they were her favorite to play with. But it was always a little sad when she couldn’t find them in her toy box in the morning.

Maybe they’d make them for her while they played?

Bif and Bof gave the greatest hugs. Bomb did too, and he was even bigger than grandpa Took. Ri showed her lots of fun ways to sneak up on people. She’d even got a squeal out of _mamau_ the other day. Fee and Kee were the most fun though, they knew all sorts of fun games. And Kee even had a bow! Just like the elves.

But first, they needed to catch that troll.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

After a fun morning of chasing after Trolls and butterflies; while telling one of the Ri’s just how good green really is. _Mamau_ made her come in for elevensies before they could get it though. Bif kept stepping on twigs in those big boots of his so it kept flying away. Why did they wear boots anyway? Did their feet not have fur? They had so much on their face. But her _tad_ didn’t have any fuzz on his face, nor did either of her _tad-cu_. Maybe _mamau_ and _tad_ could tell her why over dinner?

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

By dinner the fauntling was nearly falling asleep at the table, a normal sight that her parents were used to by now. Between her mornings chasing butterflies and playing in the garden, followed by an afternoon with other faunts in the Shire, their little one always had a busy, fun filled day. A sleepy fauntling just means she’d sleep through the night and hopefully enjoy more happy fun filled dreams of adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbitish:  
> mamau – Mother  
> un ifanc – young one  
> hynaf – elder/s  
> tad – father  
> tad-cu – Grandfather


	3. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night terrors are never fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's about 15 here, so about 7 1/2 in maturity.

****

Chapter 02 - Night Terrors

She swooped into her youngling’s room. Gathered her into her arms, to try and still the crying. She wasn’t sure what to do, Gandalf hadn’t made an appearance in the Shire since the Old Took’s birthday, when she’d told him there would be no more adventures for herself. She’d found the best one right in her own backyard raising her faunt. Yet, she wished she had a way to reach the old wanderer, to get his feel for this rash of dreams that were haunting her daughter.

“ _Mamau_!” It had been going on night after night for weeks now. The imaginary friends that would have normally gone away as a faunt grew, never left her darling Bilbo. However, now those very friends, were causing her daughter such distress in her dreams. Along, with seemingly new ones.

“Shh darling, it’s going to be alright, I promise,” she rocked her child, wanting to bring a moment to peace if she could. “Can you tell me what it was about?”

Some nights it was impossible to get an answer, others it all came tumbling out. And she was never sure what response she really wanted to get. Bilbo’d stopped using names when she talked about the people in her dreams. Not after the one about being a barrel rider when her Kee had gotten hit by and arrow and gotten sick.

“Was it the barrels again?” The patch of weeping curly hair shook, “No? That’s good, just remember we don’t have wine barrels go down the Brandy…” the faunt stilled, breath catching. “What happened my sweet pea?” Tightening her hold just a touch letting the faunt knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

If there’d been any other noise, she would have missed the whisper, “The boat tipped _mamau_ ,” a small hiccup, “couldn’t save them, why’d they have to go?”

“Who sweetling,” she couldn’t think of a hobbit crazy enough in the Shire, save for a few Brandybuck’s, who’d even brave the waters. Nor, had anyone been lost in recent memory, mostly because very few even braved it. “We could go and see them tomorrow if you’d like, just to make sure they’re okay.”

“I don’t,” another sniffle, but the crying was slowing down a bit, “I don’t know they’re names,” the last bit coming out almost a wail. Bilbo scooted back a bit and looked up at her mother, “But I know they left something behind. I,” a deep breath, as Belladona wiped the tears off her cheeks, “I have to take care of it and I don’t know what it is!” 

She couldn’t tell her _mamau_ that it hadn’t happened yet. Or at least she didn’t think it had. After ten years of her Dwarrow in her drams, she really believed that they’d come for her someday. Just like the voice whispered in her ear. And maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to help stop the bad things from happening. Maybe she wouldn’t break what was left behind this time.

“My little sweetling, I will ask around on the morrow and I’m sure the Bounders will tell us that nothing has happened.” Belladonna patted the soft honey golden curls that her faunt had, thankful that the tears were starting to settle. “Do you think you could get back to sleep, or,” there was a twinkle in her eyes as an idea came, “perhaps a seed cake to help sooth your tummy with your dear _mamau_?”

She tried to keep her chuckles to herself as the faunt scrambled out of bed and started tugging on her arm. Tears forgotten with the promise of food.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

She never did send a message off to Gandalf or Lord Elrond, as the nightmares seemed to stop a few days later. Never knowing her young faunt just got better at hiding her fears. It would be noted though that for the next few years, every time it snowed, she’d crawl into their bed and couldn’t be persuaded to go back to her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just didn't want to flow, but it needed to be written for the next few to work. The next chapter is 3x the length hand written, and in a smaller print. We'll also get our first glimpse of some of the company. Not that they'll know who she is. 
> 
> Hobbitish:  
> Mamau - Mother/Mom


	4. Bree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I doubled the length of the story in this chapter. :) Next one won't be as long and it may be a few weeks before I get it out. Very busy with work and my birthday. However, I thought I'd give you all a gift in the spirit of Hobbits as a huge thank you for all the reviews, kudos and bookmarks. You have no idea how thrilled it makes me that people are actually reading and enjoying this.

**Chapter 03  
Bree**

“ _Mamau_ , why does gold make big people sick?” The two Baggins ladies had done w truly Tookish thing and gone to Bree for the day. Word of a traveling blacksmith had reached the Shire and Belladonna was curious about the dwarrow in general, for she’d never met any in her own travels. In a way, she also hoped that once her daughter met one, it would stop the friends from making as much of an appearance. Not that she’d heard about them much anymore.

If the question was a bit particular, Bella didn’t show it while they walked down the muddy street. “I’m not sure Bilbo, it’s not something we put much stock in, in the Shire. Perhaps, it’s because it’s how they measure their own personal wealth. We have a much simpler way of life. However, even we need gold sometimes. Like today for example, where we need to pay the blacksmith for the work he does on our pots, if he can.” Lessons were always good, as Bilbo was fast moving from faunt to tween and needed to start learning to take over as the Head of the Bagginesses. Not that Bungo was going anywhere soon, but it was better to start early. Thankfully, Bilbo seemed to catch on ever so smoothly.

“So even though we don’t really want to, we have to deal in gold too? That’s silly!” Bilbo huffed from around Bella’s elbow.

“I agree darling, but even in the Shire we do deal in some form of payment and coin. We’re just not so crazy about it. Our wealth is mostly trade.” She pulled in front of the forge that was on the far edge of Bree, and smiled at the children who were trying to peek in through the open windows to see what was going on inside.

“Is the Master of the forge in residence younglings?” she asked, getting a couple of surprised squeaks and some quick nods. “Run along now little ones, you don’t want to be late for tea,” smiling again at the giggles and the scampering of little feet, before making her way to the entrance and giving a knock. Bilbo scurrying right behind, carrying the large copper pot that had sprung a leak, the cast iron pan being too heavy for the younger Hobbit just yet.

As she knocked, she called through the half opened door, “Master Blacksmith?” Unsure if she’d be heard over the sound of a hammer hitting metal, “May I have a moment of your time?”

Much to her delight, the dwarf in question seemed to be quite used to patrons stopping in unannounced and stopped mid-swing, “How may I assist you little Mistress?” Though he’d barely spared her a glance, as he plunged his work into some water to tamper it until later.

“My daughter and I have come in from the Shire to see if there was any possibility of you being able to repair our goods,” she lifted the large (for a hobbit) cast iron pan, still frustrated about the fact the handle had seemingly removed itself a week before. Then stepped to the side, bringing her daughter into view, the copper pot hugged to her chest. “If it is not possible, I will be in need to commission new ones. Though, I would rather reuse what I already have it possible.”

“Let me see the pot, the handle will only take a short time, but the copper can be a problem depending on how well it was made to start.” He was gruff, but it was what Bella had expected and wanted. She didn’t want her faunt to really like the man, yet of course the almost tween didn’t seem to have an ounce of Baggins’ in her, more Took than sense as one would say.

She was already moving forward, the large pot held out and smiling toothily at the dwarrow who was twice her size. “Here sir. Dad wasn’t paying attention and melted it. Mama says we have to fix the stove too!”

Much to Bella’s dismay, the demeanor of the dwarf changed as he got down on one knee in froth of her daughter as he took the pot from her, “Is that so little mistress, do you know who will fix it for you?”

Oh dear Yavanna, Bilbo was blushing, this was not the reaction Bella was striving for, “No sir,” and whispering too, “Mama got real mad at dad for it too.”

He chuckled lightly, then turned the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen on Bella, “My partner should be able to repair any damage a pot caused, though it would be a few days before he’d be able to make the trip, if there is none that are able to fix it for you.” He then nodded his head towards both ladies, “Thorin, son of Thrain at your service.”

“Oh my,” now she was the one who was blushing, “Belladonna Baggins at yours good sir. This is my daughter, Bilbo.” Ruffling the curls of her faunt and then laughing a bit at the ‘MOM’ and squirming away. “Well good sir, I would be most honoured to have one such as yourself come to our humble Smial. I feared it wouldn’t be until next spring before it could be fixed. The tinkers only come around then.” 

“Our pleasure Mistress. Please give me a moment to examine this pot and then we’ll speak of business.”

Both hobbits watched him get gracefully to his feet, not a wasted movement, already his eyes and fingers testing the metal in his hands. “I’m afraid Mistress Baggins, there is not much that can be done for this other than to melt it down for something else. You and your husband were blessed to have it last as long as it did. The craftsmanship is poor and I am afraid I cannot repair it.” He watched her shoulders slump a bit, before continuing, “However, I may be able to offer a trade of sorts.” He walked over to the far side of the forge, feeling two sets of eyes on his back, one much heavier than the other and pretended to look over what was already finished, before picking up a similar sized but much better made pot.

“I would have use of the copper that remains, and for a few copper pieces as well, I will let you have this one.” He presented a much heavier, sturdy cast iron pot to Belladonna, while daftly removing the pan she’d still been holding.

“Master Thorin, I seem to be getting the much better end of this deal. I insist on playing you at least a silver piece for this workmanship.” 

“Unnecessary. Mistress Baggins. It would do us good to see that pot go, instead of having to carry it to yet another village.” Refusing to take back the pot that she now held. “I made that with my own hands,” if his eyes were on the younger of the two, and his words more impassioned, neither noticed, “and I would rather see gentle folk use it for what it was intended, than to see it gather dust here for the unforeseeable future.”

Bella gave Thorin a smile, than, “As you wish Master Blacksmith Thorin, I will accept your offer for the pot. However, I will have to insist on for silver marks plus labour and parts for the time your partner will spend at my smial. It is a half-day travel by horse to Hobbiton and I know you will lose business if your partner is gallivanting off. As well as lodging for the night and food.” She was nodding to herself, knowing it was probably much more than he’d been expecting.

Jumping a bit at the snort that came from behind her, “Take the offer lad, you won’t get better,” a gruff voice spoke, “Nor, will I pass on the offer of a mean and a place to rest, along with payment; instead of being tossed out into the night.”

Both mother and daughter turned to take in the dwarf that took up most of the door behind them, muscles built from long years of hard work and a large Mohawk that bisected his head and was making a valiant attempt to reach the door jamb with its height.

“Dwalin, son of Fundin at your service little Mistresses.” He gave them both a short bow, but was shooting looks at Thorin, who was doing his very best to ignore them.

“Perhaps you should speak particulars with Dwalin, Mistress Baggins. While you do, I will look after your pan.” Quickly turning away.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

While her mother was distracted by the bear of a dwarf, Bilbo followed Thorin across the forge, being very careful not to touch anything. When she got up beside him, she reached up and tugged on his sleeve, “Excuse me Master Thorin,” she wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him, ‘ _I know you don’t know me and really won’t for 30 years, but I’ve know you for a lifetime and more,_ ’ just didn’t seem right to her.

“Yes, little Mistress,” he’d been hoping to get away from the confusing feelings this child gave him for a few moments, if only because, she really was a child.

Bilbo chewed on her lower lip for a moment, never letting go of his arm, “Is it true that dwarves make the best locks for doors?” Well, that wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to say, but maybe they’d be able to help keep her home safe too.

Kneeling down again so he was better able to look her in the face, “It’s dwarrow little Mistress,” “Bilbo,” “and yes, once locked only the one with the key or pass code would be able to open a dwarrow lock.” He was proud of what his people could do.

“Would you be able to Master Thorin?”

“No little Mistress, only a master locksmith could.”

“Where would one of those be?”

Chuckling, “Is the Shire so full of thieves that one as young as yourself worries of who will break in?”

Frowning up at him, because really, even though he was on one knee, he still towered over her, “Of course not! But some day I _will_ go on an adventure, just like my mom did, and I want my home to be there when I get back.” It was really hard not to tack on the ‘this time’.

He just nodded at her answer, “Well then little Mistress, in the Blue Mountains, about a month’s travel from here; in the Dwarrow settlement Ered Luin; there are a few master of the craft you are looking for. Though of those, there are only a smaller number who still work it. Of those I know personally, I would recommend one of the sons of Hori. Nori is one of the best, though he rarely uses it as he should.”

“Ach, No!” Dwalin called out, who’d half been listening in. “Send your message to the Guild little Mistress, I wouldn’t trust that rat as far as I could throw him.”

“Which is rather far, as I recall.” Thorin shot Dwalin a look, “Have you made an accord?”

“Yes Master Smith. It should work well for us all.” Bella held her hand out for Bilbo.

“I will send your pan with Dwalin when it is repaired then Mistress Baggins. I thank you for your patronage,” accepting the coins that were handed over.

“And we thank you for your time good sirs.” Giving Bilbo a bit of a push towards the door, while picking the pot up. “I shall look forward to seeing you in a few days Master Dwalin, “I shall have lunch ready for when you arrive.” Nodding her thanks again, she ushered her daughter out the door. Altogether feeling that she got the better end of the deal, but the end result left much to be desired.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

Rounding on his displaced king, Dwalin growled out, “What in the name of Mahal are you thinking Thorin? You practically gave that away and you asked on no payment for the pan!”

Slumping against the anvil, “She’s my One Dwalin, I could not take more.”

“The elder?”

“No.”

“The lass?” Signing when he got a nod, “A might young yet, but in 30 years or so and she’d be of age.”

“It doesn’t matter, I would not condemn a woman to our life. I would not go to her until I could give her the spot she deserves by my side, as queen.”

Leaning over and smacking his oldest friend up the back of the head. “You’re an idiot, but a good man.” A piercing look, “Nori? The thief?”

“Still our best locksmith and more a spy than a thief and more trustworthy than most.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do. The best is what she deserves, even if I can’t truly give it to her myself.”

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh our dear Dwarrow, they really need to learn more about other races other than men and elves.


	5. Chapter 04 - 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bungo Baggins is an idiot, but a well meaning one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait 5 more days to post this, but I only have 1 more chapter written after this. I scrapped the next two because they just didn't work. My muse went in another direction. Working on Chapter 6 & 7 now. Next chapter will be out in a week to 2 weeks.

“I don’t care if she’s too young Belladonna. There has been younger. I refuse to lose her to the outside. I have arranged a match and it will be done.” She knew she shouldn’t, but, she hid in the next room from her parents to listen in. It was very rare for her parents to fight, and this seemed to be the worst yet.

“You can’t do this Bungo. She’s just a tween!” Dear Yavanna, they were fighting over her, “She has eight more years of being a child.”

“And I fear that she’s going to be lost to us by then. Even you agree that trip to Bree was a fools endeavor.” She hadn’t thought she’d been that obvious.

“Yet she’s put so much effort into learning the family business. She even started to wear dresses in the past few years. The Baggins in her may still over rule the Took she got from me.”

“You even said your greatest adventure was right here in the Shire, but only after you married me. Even more so after you became pregnant Bell.” Please listen to mom, please listen to mom. “I can’t risk losing her like I almost lost you all those years ago.”

“She’s not like me Bungo, she’ll never be happy in a forced marriage.” Shit, “And to a Bracegirtle at that. I don’t think she even likes the lad, he’s 10 years older.”

“It’s a good match, and she’ll still be head of the family if something happens to us.”

“You think the Sackville-Baggins would stand for something like that? I never took you for a complete fool Bungo.”

“I’ve worked it out with the Thain and Bentco so there would be no question that our wishes would be followed.” Oh dear Yavanna, Benn? The last time she’s seen him, she’d given him a black eye and that was nearly five years ago, because he’d been saying nasty things about Dwalin being at their home to fix the stove. Dwalin had set her thumb afterwards and gave pointers on how to keep from hurting herself again.

“She won’t speak to you.”

“As long as she’s safe, I don’t really care.” Nowhere was really safe.

“Safe is a relative term Bungo. Even you know that. You do this and you’re making her an adult, you remember this right. By our laws, she’ll be able to do as she pleases, even if she hasn’t turned 33.”  
“Except, she’s a Baggins Bell, and we always keep our word. No matter how hard it is to do so, we find a way. She’s at least that much like me.”

Bilbo really couldn’t listen to any more of their conversation. She could tell that every word her father said was turning her mother to his side in this. Soon, she’d be married, when her heart was in the Blue Mountains.

As she slipped into her own room, she thought about her dwarf, who was so far away. Would her forgive her for doing this. She couldn’t remember everything from before, really, she’d even believed it all a dream until that fateful meeting five years before. Their meeting hadn’t happened until that insane night the first time around. Of course, her parents hadn’t tried to marry her off either. Oh to be a boy again, the freedom she’d had.

Of course, since meeting Thorin and Dwalin, things had changed for her the past few years. Between the lessons with her father, she’d spent much time with her relatives in Tookland and Buckland, learning how to use a bow. If the Dwarrow were real, then she needed to get herself better prepared for what was to come. But how was she supposed to do that with a husband and possible faunt (or more)?

Did Benny even make it through the winter? She just couldn’t remember. Yes the dreams still came and sometimes she would see faces, but very rarely did it show her much more than glimpses.

Meeting him again hadn’t helped much really, if anything, it had made things worse. She knew she loved him, had loved him, will love him. Terms were so difficult now. Did she really want to wait another 25 years for him to come to her? There were several mornings she’d woken up gasping for breath, the fear of falling to her doom and his fingers around her neck vivid in her mind. But then others were of tears and the feeling that she couldn’t stop the bleeding that came from his chest while she begged him to live. That she’d never get that blood washed off her hands. That was the dream that scared her the most, the one that kept her from wanting to sleep some nights. It was also that which kept her going. She was going to stop it. He was going to live and so here the boys.

Of course, there were still the good dreams, the feel of his arms around her in a hug. The soft looks that had started after they’d first seen the mountain. The time sitting outside his cell, just talking quietly to pass time when she couldn’t sleep, but was too exhausted to continue searching for an exit.

Yet things were already different this time around. She hadn’t met him before that fateful night and she didn’t have memories that she did now. She really didn’t understand why Yavanna and Mahal had sent her back to do it all over again. The only thing she could think was she needed to make things right.

This time, Thorin, Fili and Kili would live. This time Frodo would grow up with his parents and not deal with the evils for the right. And if it meant she had to get married to a Bracegirtle, well, so be it. They wouldn’t be coming for her for another twenty-five years yet and she could wait it out if she had to. She was a Baggins, and a Baggins always kept their promises. Even if it meant doing something she despised.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

It was a rushed wedding, causing many rumors of a faunt was already on the way. Why else would a tween be married off so quickly?

The whispers that followed when she appeared with her crown of flowers (burdock, lavender and mistletoe) would also keep tongues wagging for many years. Its message very clear on just what she thought of this farce when read together.

Of course, in their one meeting before that day, she’d told Bentco just what she thought of all this. She would marry him. She’d give him a faunt (and didn’t that piss her off, her marriage contract said she had to have a child), but after that he would never be welcome in her bed.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burdock: touch me not  
> Lavender: Alt meaning – distrust  
> Mistletoe – Surmount all difficulties 
> 
>  
> 
> Please don't hate me - I believe in happy endings  
> Next: First part of Fell Winter


	6. Chapter 05 - The Fell Winter, PT 1 - Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sighed while looking out the window of her smial. It had snowed again during the night and the drifts were up to the windowsill now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important Authors Note, that needs to be said before going into the next chapter.
> 
> There are some triggers in this chapter. I'm really sorry, there are a lot of harsh things that happen to her early on in this story. I promise things get better.
> 
> I think arranged marriages are usually doomed to fail because there was no love beforehand. Also, a forced marriage to a youth sucks. However, it was a major plot point for this story. What happens now has far reaching affects for later on. I caught a lot of flak from a lot of people because they didn’t like it. Sorry, this is where the muses took me.
> 
> Now, for the LOGIC behind the age of Bilbo’s marriage, taken from canon and movie verse mashed together. Since a lot of people seem to think that the movie verse has stuck with canon. Hobbits marry young. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins nee Bracegirdle; at most would have been 22 at the time Bilbo leaves on his adventure in the book. He was born in 1290, her 1318, yet many people believe that she and Otho (who is 8 years her elder) are the ones to try and take Bilbo's home. Though, I find it easier to believe it was Longo and Camellia as there are no first names mentioned in the book.
> 
> For those who hate OC’s as much as I do. Bentco won’t be in the story for long.

** Chapter 05 **

** Part One - The Fell Winter  
Trapped **

Bilbo sighed while looking out the window of her smial. It had snowed again during the night and the drifts were up to the windowsill now. There was no way she was going to be able to navigate the road to get to Bag End for the small family gathering to celebrate her father’s birthday. The faunt that lay nestled under her heart was throwing off her balance and trying to climb over mountains of snow was no longer a feat she could conquer on her own.

She hoped he would forgive her, since they’d only just started speaking again the past spring and she’d promised to be there this year. She couldn’t even send her own husband in her steed because he’d become a great lump once the snow really started to fall and he realized she wasn’t going to let him pillage the larder when there was no way to replace it.

Oh, she wasn’t 100% sure her dreams would come true, but over the past 8 years she’d have enough dreams of this winter that she’d prepared as much as she possibly could. Her pantries may not have been as large as up at Bag End, but it was now the start of Solmath and still reasonably full. No thanks to Bentco.

Yes, the Baranduin had frozen over and whispers of wolf attacks were starting to reach even the gentle hobbits of Hobbiton, but so far it hadn’t been as bad as she remembered.

Of course, she kept a dagger on her at all times, just in case, even though Bentco was convinced it was completely unnecessary. The coldest part of the winter had just set in and she wasn’t going to take any chances. She’d done well at Bag End, but this time she lived on the edge of town instead of the center.

Stepping away from the window, she once again sent a wish to Yavanna that she be forgiven for not making it to the small gathering. In her heart, she knew her father would rather her keep her faunt safe from harm, however, it would never stop her from fretting. A habit that had followed her into this life from the last.

Patting her quickly expanding waistline, she wandered towards her kitchen where a hearty stew was brewing in the pot Thorin had sold her mother. Bombur would have been pleased (even if he didn’t know her yet) to see that she was using one of the recipes he’d taught her on the road. It made a healthy, filling soup, with only the basic of ingredients. It may not have been the most appetizing, nor the most flavourful, but it did stretch out the stores longer.

With at least two more months of winter, she wanted their food to make it with them. Once spring hit, she could spend the last few months of her pregnancy eating a normal healthy hobbit diet, but for now she would make do with what she had.

As she stirred the pot, to keep it from sticking, there was a knock at the door, “Bentco, would you get that please?” Frowning slightly at the grumbling she heard from the great room, but thankfully he did as he was asked. Sometimes he just wouldn’t do anything at all. She wiped her hands on her apron and slowly made her way towards the door as well, turning the corner to see young Holman shivering just inside.

“What brings you all this way Master Greenhand, this weather is not fit for man nor beast.” She smiled warmly, “Come, join us for lunch, I was just about to serve up a stew that should bring some warmth back into your body.” Flatly ignoring the look her husband shot her way, she would never not feed a guest, even if it meant less for herself that day. May the Valar forbid Bento ever suggest she do otherwise. “The fire in the kitchen is hot and I do not wish to see you get ill from the chill.”

Linking her arm with the lad, she didn’t give him the chance to decline as she led him into the kitchen before placing a steaming bowl in front of him at the table.

“Was there something needed up at Bag End?” It was the only thing she could think of for him to be out like this. While she waited for an answer, she quickly plated up a dish for her husband and herself, while trying to decide what to make instead for dinner.

“Mistress Baggins sent me, Mistress Bracegirdle. Master Baggins has come down with that illness that has been making the rounds. The canceled tonight and asked me to run here to tell you.”

“Oh, I will get my herbs.” She hadn’t fully sat down yet, and was already moving towards her stash of dried teas, “I can be ready to head up in just a short bit. If I could implore on you to wait and be of an escort, I know we can get there quickly.”

In a bit of a panic, “Oh no Mistress, you misunderstood. Mistress Baggins wants you to stay here. Says it’s bad for the faunt. Doesn’t want you to get ill, you know.”  
Not stopping in her bustling around, “Yes, yes, of course, I understand Holman. Then I must request that you take these herbs to my mamau. I will quickly write instructions down. Oh and stop calling me Mistress, how many times do I have to ask? We mucked about in the mud together.”

Quickly swallowing his food before answering with a bit of a grin, “Of course, Mistress Bilbo.” He was practically hovering over his bowl, already finished half of the offered treat and eyeing the full bowl she’d left behind. Taking in the sunken cheeks and less than hobbit like figure the tween had, she gently nudged her bowl towards him and was already secretly glad she’d made enough that it was supposed to have covered both lunch and supper, so she wouldn’t miss out. “I will be back in just a few moments, you stay right here and get warmed up.”

It really didn’t take her long to write everything out and hand it over to the tween, thanking him, while asking him to give her parents her love and let them know she would be well, before showing him out. It was however long enough for her oh so loving husband to finish off the last of the stew while her back was turned.

Some days it wasn’t even worth hunting him down in their home and gutting him like the spineless worm he was.

One week later and all was not well in the Shire. None dared to even peak their head out the door after dark for fear of the wolves that were prowling the area. They were growing braver and quickly moving inland where easier, more plentiful pray could be found.

Word had been sent to the Rangers for assistance, but it was unknown when help would arrive.

And Bilbo was afraid for the faunt she carried. There had been very little movement the last few days and a pain had started in her lower back that couldn’t be passed off as normal aches.

“Bentco, I need you to get the midwife,” she stood at the door to her husband’s room, “Something is wrong.” She sounded a lot calmer than she felt.

“Bilba, you’re just imagining things, it’s too soon. Go back to bed. I’m not running out in this weather on a half-baked fear.” Oh how she hated this hobbit, how had she’d forgotten how nasty his whole family was.

“Unless you want to deliver this faunt yourself, you are going to get Mistress Rowan right this instant or dear Maker, I will make sure everyone from one end of the Shire to the other knows exactly how not responsible you truly are. It’s not even dark out, you slept through first breakfast!” She clenched her teeth around a contraction that had her gripping the door to stay upright. “Go. NOW!”

If she hadn’t been in so much pain, she would have found it almost funny how fast he finally shot up out of bed and got moving. The grumbling left much to be desired, but as long as he did what was needed for the faunt, she didn’t care anymore.

Trusting he could see himself out and stay safe, she made her way back towards her own rooms. Stopping for a short period at the linen closet to grab towels (she didn’t trust him to be of any help at all when they got back), before easing herself into a chair. It would hopefully be a while yet before this one decided to make its way, but something told her it would be much sooner, rather than later.

After about ten minutes, Bilbo heard a loud crash coming from the front hall, as if the front door had been slammed open, something no hobbit, even in a peak of anger would even think to do. Her only thought was that the idiot had not fully latched the door and something had gotten in.

In a panic, she got up out of the chair and as silently as she could, she slipped over to the door to her room and slid it closed. Then quickly, heedless of the noise it made, moved the heavy wooden bookcase in front of it. Even if it tipped, it would still create a block. Later, when asked, she wouldn’t know how she’d done it on her own, as it had taken four hobbits to move the empty case and it was full now.

Fumbling for her dagger, she sat on the bed to wait. Hopefully, whatever had broken in would give up quickly before coming this far in, but she wasn’t nieve, she just prayed the door would hold. This had happened to other hobbits last time, wolves finding a way in and an easy meal waiting for them. She refused to make it easy for anything. Labor or no.

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

Time passed, as it always would, but it would be a long time before she’d be able to measure it. Between waves of pain that she’d taken to biting on the handle of her dagger for, the howls of wolves and no help coming, time seemed to blend together.

She knew she finally opened her bedroom door, there would be great rents in the wood. The bookcase had gotten knocked over, but as predicted, created a wedge that kept the door closed tightly. However, that didn’t stop the scratching and howls in the hall. The sound would haunt her dreams for years to come.

She couldn’t tell anyone the exact time her faunt finally arrived, just that the poor lass had been so tiny. Smaller than any babe she’d ever seen before, it was so hard to believe that something so small could cause so much pain. The little lass had tried to cry, tried to suckle, little blonde curls wrapping around even tiny pointed ears, yet she never made it through the first night. Bilbo’s crying over the baby in her arms unheard over the howls.

All she knew was sometime later (3 days after Bentco had left), she heard someone calling out her name. Tired, feverish and oh so thirsty, she tried to call out to the. It taking several tries before a true semblance of sound came out.

“In here! I’m in here!” The door started to rattle, but a welcoming one this time, “It’s blocked, I can’t get out!”

“Stand back lass!” She could recognize Hob Gammidge’s voice, “We’ll get yah out in a right sec.” Soon the sound of axes could be heard, breaking through the last of the thick wood. A head popped in the first hole made, “Good to see you alive little miss,” the she heard someone calling for a healer out in the hall, even as axes continued to take down the door.

Threw it all, she didn’t move from her spot in the far corner of the room. Wedged in a corner between the bed and the wall. She could just see them scramble through the hole that they’d made, while she hugged the wrapped bundle in her arms. Clothing askew, hair lank and bloody towels surrounding her.

“You hurt lass? Did one of those things nip yah?” Oh, when did Hob get so close? Shaking her head to the second question, new tears started to flow and she hunched forward over the bundle.

“Oh lassie,” she could hear it in his voice, the pity, she hated pity, “I’m sorry lass, that great beasty didn’t leave until this morn. We came as soon as we could.” He didn’t remove the hand he placed on her shoulder, even when she flinched. “Come on lass, let’s get you up and to your family’s smail, and I’ll get my Rowan to you as quick as can be.”

Barely a whisper, “Bentco?” She’d been cursing him for a long time now.

“Found ‘em three mornings ago, almost to the market. Looked like he was coming our way. Wolves got ‘em lass, I’m sorry.” She didn’t remember anything after that. 

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Bentco called Bilbo, Bilba, this was not in error. It was the name she was given at birth. In my head canon, although just about everyone else calls her by Bilbo as she's insisted on since the dreams started at the age of 5, he refuses.
> 
> I have tried to keep the book timeline as much intact as possible for when Hobbits appear in the story. Which means Hamfast is not born until 8 years after the Fell Winter. Frodo will not be born until Bilbo is 78 years old and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins ne Bracegirdle was born the year of the Fell Winter (in this story, 117 years after it actually happened in the book). 
> 
> Except for Bentco, all hobbits are actually cannon characters, taken out of the Appendix C, Family Trees at the end of The Return of the King. Most of which are from ‘The Longfather-Tree of Master Samwise’.
> 
> Hob Gammidge and Rowan are the great grandparents of Samwise, both about a little over 40 years older than Bilbo according to the family tree. There is no word on what they actually did in the Shire, so I did play around a bit with that.
> 
> Holman Greenhand is 2 years younger than Bilbo and is the one who took Hamfast under his wing as a gardener (who was born in 1326, 8 years after the Fell winter in this story).
> 
> I felt there really needed to be a reason why Lobelia hates Bilbo so much and growing up hearing stories of how your older brother had been married to her and he’d died along with a baby, while Bilbo lived would do the trick. 
> 
> I know, I’m mean, but this was needed for something to happen in the next few chapters. Please don’t hate me. I promise, I like happy endings too. As the saying goes, what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.


	7. Chapter 6 - Black Eyes and Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping back a few weeks for our Dwarrow. Flashback starts and ends in italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LightInTheAttic has agreed to be my proof reader starting this chapter. Thank you so much LightInTheAttic.

** Chapter 6  
The Fell Winter Part 2  
Black Eyes and Spies **

As the snow started to settle in around the mountain, Dwalin watched the flakes create great mounds in the small Dwarrow city. The season had started much earlier this year, bringing with it much snow, freezing winds and ice to settle in quickly. He’d only just made it back to the mountain himself, dragging a protesting Thorin behind him. Normally, they’d spend another month outside, working to raise the funds needed for food to last the winder. Yet, something told him they needed to return early. 

Now, the few who were making it back spoke of how bad it was on the outside. Strong flowing rivers were starting to freeze over, and many dwarrow were choosing to bunk down in the towns they’d gotten snowed into. 

It was the warning from a small girl that made him take notice of the weather, something he’d admit he rarely did. Warnings that he’d normally have ignored (and honestly at the time he had thought it had been no more than a very active imagination). Yet eight years later, he definitely was beginning to think otherwise. 

  
√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

_He was half laughing to himself. Thorin’s One was a little spitfire and he already looking forward to when his best friend and king was ruled over by the little lass._ Apparently, one of the lads had taken affront to him being at Bag End and the lass had decked him. From what he’d seen, the lad would be sporting a shiner for a good week or two and had gone running off to his mother. 

Bilbo on the other hand, had stood in the garden with a look of unrestrained fury written all over her features. Both hands scrunched up in fists and half looking like she wanted to go after him and give him a matching set. 

Of course, what the lad had said, didn’t even phase the Dwarf in question. It was nothing more than he’d heard hundreds of times in countless villages. It didn’t even register as cruel. Yet the little las was more than ready to go to battle for his honor, which warmed his heart in ways it hadn’t been touched in years. 

Apparently the lasses parents hadn’t seen what had happened, so Dwalin quickly wiped his hands off and made his way outside to check on her. By the time he made it to the garden, Bilbo was sitting on the bench on the side of the house and was looking down at her hand, which was looking a bit out of shape. 

“Let me look at that lass,” it was a testament to how much she wasn’t paying attention when she jumped. He hadn’t exactly been quiet. 

“I’m sorry Master Dwalin,” she looked so contrite, “Benny knows better.” 

Kneeling in front of her, he took her hand in his own, gently flexing her fingers to make sure they were alright, “It’s alright little mistress, nothing that hasn’t been said before.” 

“But they shouldn’t!” wincing when he tried to move her thumb, “Ow.” 

“Nothing broken at least,” he grunted. “People say and thing what they wish lassie, after a while you just stop listening.” Turning her hand over to assess it better, her thumb sitting slightly out of place, but not as bad as it could have been. “You dislocated it. Easy enough to fix. Will hurt a might though.” 

She pouted up at him, “Shouldn’t have to get used to it.” 

“Aye, on that we both agree.” He let go of her hand for a moment to dig through his pockets, always carrying a spare bandage or two on him. It was easier to quickly bandage up and get back to work than having to stop and find something. “Was a solid hit you landed there lassie, but next time remember to keep your thumb tucked outside,” holding his own hand up and showing her how to do it, “like this. Otherwise, you do damage to yourself as well.” 

“I’m sorry Master Dwalin, I tried to remember.” She made an attempt to copy him and winced, “Ow.” The scowl Bilbo gave her hand almost made him laugh out loud. 

“Here lassie, lets fix that right up. May be a few days before you can use it again though.” Putting the bandage on the bench beside her, Dwalin too her hand in his again, “Do you go punching the lads often?” 

Giving him a mulish look, “Only when they’re stupid.” 

“All the time then, I’d say.” That got a giggle out of her, followed by a yelp as he set the joint back into place while she was distracted. “Sorry lass, it would have hurt more if you were expecting it.”  
Surprisingly, she just nodded and let him continued working, “Doesn’t look like you get much trouble here.” 

Shaking her head, “Sometimes, when the big snows come through and the river freezes, we have lots of trouble.” 

“Happen often?” 

“No,” she flexed her hand around the bandage, “but it’s scary. I dream of it sometimes.” 

“Haven’t seen a hard winter in many years that I recall, at least not up by the mountains.” He was trying to remember if he’d heard of one in recent memory. 

“We’ll have one soon. When the crops don’t grow well and the snow comes early. Then the river will freeze and the wolves will come.” Bilbo wasn’t looking at him anymore, but out over the Shire, her eyes were glazed. “Everyone will be hungry and need shelter from the storms.” Shaking her head a bit and looking back at him, “Please make sure your safe Master Dwalin. Both you and Master Thorin. Please!” 

“Aye little miss, we’ll be safe, even if I have to drag him home by his beard.” 

_“She’d laughed, giving him a hug and run off to play._

  
√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

Although what she’d said bothered him, when the now had come late that year, he’d forgotten all about it. Until now. 

  
√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

Dwalin knew that if he went to his king with his fears, he’d probably over react and try to take their army and march on the Shire to save his lass. When it was probably nothing more than a passing dream. No, instead he was going to have to go about this another way. Not that he liked going about it this way, but it was safer. At least there was a pretext in place for sending the spy. And although he didn’t trust him. He at least respected the work he did. 

Now, if he could just find the little bastard. This was the fourth tavern he’d been in that night alone. Since he was trying to go unnoticed, he was gritting his teeth at the underhanded deals he’d seen going on and had been unable to do anything about. Where ever that spiked headed fool was hiding, he better show himself soon. Thorin was going to start asking questions if he went out for a third night.  
“I’ve heard you’ve been looking for me.” He was going to kill him, it took everything not to jump. 

“You do that on purpose.” 

“Have to have my fun somehow, “A cloaked Dwarf walked out of the shadows, as if he’d always been there. “You never come looking for me.” 

“Need a job done.” He all but growled out. 

“A braided eyebrow quirked upwards, “Finally found something you couldn’t beat into submission?” 

Dwalin wasn’t sure just how many times he repeated to himself that he couldn’t kill the son of Hori. “I need you to look into something for the blacksmith.” 

The hooded figure took a step back into the shadows, before heading towards the back of the tavern, expecting the guard to follow him. Entering into a backroom. “Come into my den stud, I’ll show you a good time.” Wiggling his eyebrows. 

Pushing him against the wall, slamming the door behind him, “I’m not playing this game.” 

“You’re the one who wants to keep this quiet big boy.” 

“I am not your big boy!” 

He snorted, “Touchy aren’t you?” He shrugged Dwalin off, “So this job, it’s out of town then?” 

A curt nod, “Ever hear from a Hobbit?” 

“No, but I did hear from the blacksmith that I might.” 

“I need you to go there and check in.” 

“Right this moment? Or can it wait till the roads are clear?” He took a seat in one of the chairs, “The weather’s getting rather nasty out there.” 

“Now. I think the lass may be a seer and if she is, we’ll need time to get there behind you.” He took a seat across from him. 

“What am I looking for?” 

“Said something about being attacked by wolves and the river freezing. From the way she said it, it’s going to get bad.” 

Getting a bit more comfortable and dropping his hood, red hair standing tall, “And if it is?” 

“Send word and we’ll march. Keep her alive without them knowing we sent you.” 

“Peddling my wears then.” 

“Say you got trapped by the weather, and are working your way back to us. Would probably be the best way. Her folks are the good kind.” 

“Guessing she’s One of a kind then.” 

“A blacksmith’s dream.” 

He snorted, “I was right, Dori owes me five gold.” Eyeing across the room, “You’ll watch over them right?” 

“Both eyes, your sisters will be safe.” 

“Damn well better be guard, they’re all I’ve got.” Pulling out a dagger, he started cleaning the dirt from under his nails, “It will take a few days to get my gear together if I’m to be actually working. I’ll send word when I get there.” 

“See that you do.” With that he got up and stormed out of the room. 

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

The mountain was hit by two back to back storms over the next few days. It was over a month before Nori could leave and then what would normally take a little over week of travel took almost four. As it stood, he didn’t arrive until near the end of Solmath. 

He found himself on the heels of the orcs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter may be a little bit late, it's causing me problems. I've discovered how pants I am at writing fight scenes. The following chapter is almost finished but I envision a midnight writing session for for the next one. Hopefully my Nori muse will be accommodating.


	8. Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient during my recover & then subsequent writers block. I was going to wait to post this until after NaNoWriMo was over, but I felt you all have waited long enough.
> 
> Not beta'd but I hope you enjoy it. Next chapter is being worked on, and I have a small interlude I've been working on too.

He knew from the state of the outlying homesteads that all was not right in the quite lands of the Shire. Finding burnt at husks, still smoldering under the ground, urging him forward, praying to Mathal that he wasn’t too late. Something inside told him this wasn’t right. It wasn’t what he should be seeing. All he could do was hope that the inhabitants had made it to safety as he pushed forward to Hobbiton.

Never before had he cursed the weather as much as he had over the past several weeks. Between the back to back storms that trapped him in the mountains much longer than planned, then the conditions that slowed his progress to a near crawl; having to leave his pony behind in the mountains because he couldn't traverse the deep snows, he'd thought he would never make it to his destination. He could only hope it wasn't too late.

Of course, it wasn't until he'd seen the aftermath of Ork raids clearly visible, in what should be a quiet countryside, that he’d finally stopped cursing the Guard for sending him on a fools mission. He'd started to think Dwalin had made it up to get him away from the city for a while. Now he hoped to be forgiven for the time it took him to get here. There would be no time to send word back to Ered Luin to get reinforcements, nor would he have a chance to situate himself as a misplaced merchant before having to go to battle, if he was lucky, they would him at his word. Of course, he was never that lucky.

Pushing forward, he trudged through the chest deep snow, avoiding the main roads and heading straight in the direction his maps showed him. Unlike many of his people, he'd taken the time to learn how to read men’s maps and spent time traversing outside the mountain. His stone sense was strong and always tended to lead him astray if he wasn't paying attention, So he trained his mind and body to do just that. It was part of what made him such a great thief and spy, he now noticed just about everything, including the little things that most just looked over. 

According to the map he was using, he thought he was about a good days walk outside of the main town. By going over land he  hoped to take a few hours off that. It wasn’t as if the roads were visible in any case. The white glistening snow seemed to cover everything, making the smoke coming out of it all the more distinct.

Smoke that was coming from both in front and behind.

 

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

 

It had taken several hours to trudge through the deep snow to what had to be Hobbiton. Although the snow was still ridiculous there were signs that paths had been cleared sometime in the recent past. Though the paths now showed signs of being used by something large and four footed. He only hoped he had made it before the orcs, as they would have to stop in daylight and he’d pushed threw the past few days with only a few short naps when stopping to eat. Not welling to stop in any one place for too long.

Daylight seemed to want to slip away from him, there was a deep seated tugging in his gut that shouted he needed to find the Hobbit in question before nightfall. It was the same tug that warned him when danger was sneaking up on him and his family. He trusted that feeling more than anything else. He didn’t have time to dawdle and for the first time in weeks, the snow wasn't working wholly against him.

There were a few problems he was having though now that he'd gotten to Hobbiton. The guards so helpful directions were to find the tallest hill and knock on the green door. Under this snow, much of the surrounding area all blended in together, it was hard to tell exactly where to go.

His only hope really was to hopefully either  miraculously see this green door, that was very likely covered in snow. Or run into another Hobbit that would more than likely be rushing from one place to the another. If he could find anyone at all.

Although many of his weapons were strapped strategically upon his body, Nori had taken great pains to keep them even further hidden from view than usual. His throwing knives in their holsters up his sleeves, tucked into the many hidden pockets upon his person, and even one tucked into the many hidden pockets upon his person, and even one tucked in the collar of his shirt. His main daggers strapped into their sheath at the small of his back, hidden by his cloak and his hand axe resting on his hip in anon threating manor (yet easy to turn into as deadly a weapon as all the others). At least his mace could easily double as a walking stick. For those unfamiliar with the weapon, it was usually mistaken as the other when outside the mountain. Years of having to protect himself and his sisters (though they were mostly unaware of this fact) had trained him well in everything he carried.

It had been his deepest hope that the Guard’s worries were fruitless and he would have no real need of his weapons, get every step forward stated otherwise.

 

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

 

Not far across the small town of Hobbiton a small band of mismatched Hobbits stood just inside a broken door. Two elderly gentlemen, an aging healer, a growing widow and a couple of late tweens; all those that were brave enough to leave their own smails to check on others.

“We can't stay here, there is no way to bar the door and we can't guarantee that wolf won't be back once it grows dark. We need to get to some place safe."

“Yet we really shouldn’t move her, the poor dear is In shock and only has more to face.” Even as heated as the already long standing argument had been going on, it was all conducted in whispers. Fear of attracting the wolves attentions over riding the want of volume.

"Ladies, it is starting to grow dark," the eldest cut in, his hair as stark white as the snow just outside the door, “and I for one intend on spending the night in the warmth, instead of where there is none. If we leave now, with the lads supporting Bilba," "Bilbo," a sigh "we should get to Bag End before it's too late."

"But those things, they're growing bolder, what if they attack again before full dark?"

“Then we show them what farmers of the Shire can do. We are no pushovers. Nor are we cowards. The lass needs better care than what we can give here and the babe should be with family."

"I'm not letting those Bracegirtles near either of them!"

"It's a good thing their staying with the Proudfoot’s then, isn't it?"

A disgusted snort, “They should have stayed where the were. If they’d listened to Bilbo’s warnings like Some of us did, the wouldn't have to be leaching off others, now would they?"

“Very few listened to the lass, including yourself until this past summer, why do you think others would beany different? Now stop wasting time. Let's go. Now!"

√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v--√♥-√v—

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumbler is @thegoddessaille, not that I use it very much, but when I'm falling behind I try and post updates there.
> 
> I don't have anyone to look over my work for me. All mistakes are my own. If there is anything glaringly obvious, I am always happy to go back and fix it.


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